


money honey

by hiraethseok



Series: Rich Bitch Series [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Dean Winchester, Coming Untouched, Feminization, M/M, Nipple Play, Post-Coital Cuddling, Riding, Sibling Incest, Top Dean Winchester, bc its dean cmon now, but there is explicit consent, theyre so soft ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:35:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24300703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiraethseok/pseuds/hiraethseok
Summary: “I asked you to come here so I could finally stop thinking about you.”Other Dean leans forward and touches his forehead to Dean’s chin.“Everywhere I go, I see something that reminds me of you. I love Sam, fuck, I love him with everything I have, but you.” He looks up, and he looks so focused, so intent, so far from tipsy that Dean is frozen in place by his stare. “You’re the one I’m haunted by.”
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/HunterCorp Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Rich Bitch Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1751506
Comments: 11
Kudos: 51





	money honey

**Author's Note:**

> so. i wrote a sequel to this and now it's a series. ahahah 
> 
> enjoy deancest!! special thanks to RedGoddessEclipse for putting the idea into my head <33

.

He’s pushing ninety on an empty highway, focusing less on the black-tar asphalt in front of him than the rapid-fire rush of thoughts racing through his mind. Sam’s already said yes, but somehow repeating that sentiment like a mantra doesn’t quell his nerves in the slightest. 

Other Dean called him a few hours ago. 

He was in the middle of disassembling and cleaning his guns when his phone went off. Thinking it was Sam calling to ask him to get groceries, he answered on a whim with a half-hearted  _ hey, what’s up? _ and a barely-there glance at the caller ID. 

_ “Hello?” _ Dean stiffens. That’s not Sam. Shock slackens his fingers, and the gun slips and lands on the bed with a soft, muffled thud. 

“Dean?” he says, stunned. Other Dean huffs out a startled laugh on the other end. 

_ “I can’t believe you picked up. I thought you might--” _ He pauses.  _ “No matter, it’s not important. I’m glad you answered.” _

“Jesus, man.” Dean paces the length of his bed to sit on the edge of it, running a hand through his hair while he mentally catches his breath. “It’s been months since we talked,” he says, and then, more fervently, “How’s Rio? How’s Sam?”

He can sense Other Dean’s smile through the phone.  _ “Rio’s great. Sam’s even better. And yes, I am aware it’s been a while.“  _

Six months. It’s been six whole months since their weird-but-amazing gay incestuous foursome. Granted, Dean never expected that he would ever see Other Dean again, but there’s something about the fact that he’s actually listening to his voice that has Dean all giddy and excited and  _ nervous.  _

_ “Dean, I called to ask you a favor.”  _ Dean frowns, sobering a little. 

“Why? Is something wrong?”

_ “I need you to meet up with me in two days.” _ Dean hears a car door slam distantly through the receiver.  _ “I’ve already put in reservations for a hotel room in Ruidoso, New Mexico, just off of route 48, so just drive and I’ll be there.” _

“Wait,” Dean interrupts. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

Other Dean sighs and, for a while, all Dean can hear is the rasp of his labored breathing. 

_ “Just wanted to see you, that’s all.” _ Other Dean hangs up before Dean can respond. 

He talks to Sam about it afterwards, tells him about the meeting and the phone call and Other Dean’s frantic rush and all Sam does is give him a look. 

“Go meet him,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You have my permission.” Dean leaves with a quick thank you and peck on the lips, and it’s not until he’s loading the trunk that he wonders what exactly Sam thought he was asking him approval for. 

\--

Dean knocks on the door of what he hopes is the right room. He moves to check his watch and his shoes and his hair, and then the door is swinging open and he’s standing face to face with someone so familiar he has to pause and desperately search for differences, if only to convince his hunter-brain that there is no actual threat. 

Other Dean looks different from their last encounter. He’s tanner, probably because of endless beach parties and pool days, but not overly so because Dean knows he burns faster than he bronzes. He and Other Sam must feel right at home over there, what with their lifetime of living in luxury’s lap, and Dean isn’t jealous, couldn’t ever be, because he’s content with himself and content with Sam and he knows now that there’s nobody else and nothing else for him. 

But Other Dean is flushed and smiling, opening the door to let him in, and Dean is happy to follow him inside. 

It’s nicer than the motels he and Sam are used to, filled with simplistic wood decorations and beautifully vibrant colors. There are two beds, identically designed, and a nightstand between them with a rustic-looking analog clock balanced in the center. Dean takes a brief moment to just look around, and once he’s had his fill, he turns back to Other Dean and grins. 

“Missed me, huh?” Other Dean huffs and crosses his arms. His cheeks are still pink. 

“Absolutely not.” Dean smiles smugly, but he doesn’t push the teasing. 

“Why’d you leave Rio?” he asks instead. The ‘why’d you leave Sam?’ is implied, but Other Dean understands him just fine. 

“I already told you. To see you.”

One of Dean’s eyebrows quirk up. “You left Sam because you wanted to see me?”

Other Dean looks away from him and at the wall behind them. He’s chewing at the inside of his cheek, and Dean’s staring at him, waiting for an explanation. 

“I have beer,” Other Dean says slowly, and his eyes crawl back to meet his own. “Two full cases of it.”

_ You have my approval, _ Sam’s voice echoes in his head, and it sounds like he’s laughing at him. 

Dean sighs and gestures for Other Dean to hurry up. His double dips away with a relieved smile and a twinkle in his eye, and Dean wonders what kind of drunk he’ll turn out to be. 

\--

Other Dean is tipsy at best, but he’s definitely giggly. There’s an ease to his body that wasn’t there before, looser limbs and even looser lips. He thought Sam was bad, but Other Dean is worse. 

“You’re so pretty,” Other Dean says, not for the first time that night, and Dean just smiles and takes another swig of beer. They’ve emptied most of the first case and have the second one open and ready to drink, but Dean’s wondering if he should call it off early, just for the sake of Other Dean’s pride. 

“Fuck, can’t believe it’s been six months since we last kissed.” Other Dean frowns like he’s been personally affronted. “That’s six months too long. We should fix that.”

“Alright, Casanova,” Dean says, setting his half-empty beer down on the nightstand. “I think you’ve had enough for tonight.”

“No!” Dean startles and looks over, watches Other Dean’s eyes flash when they lock gazes. “I’m not drunk, Dean.”

Dean stands, slowly, and Other Dean doesn’t move a muscle, just waits silently as Dean approaches him to gently pry his fingers open around his empty beer can. Dean hovers a little longer than necessary, glances up at Other Dean’s glittering eyes and swallows thickly when he realizes he’s right. Other Dean isn’t  _ drunk.  _

“Dean,” Other Dean says. “I asked you to meet me so I could see you again.”

“You told me that already,” Dean answers softly, but Other Dean grabs his wrist and shakes his head. God, his cheeks are so red, freckles scattered across his nose and across his face. Dean traces them over and over again, and his gaze jumps to his lips when Other Dean parts them to speak. 

“I asked you to come here so I could finally stop thinking about you.” Other Dean leans forward and touches his forehead to Dean’s chin. “Everywhere I go, I see something that reminds me of you. I love Sam, fuck, I love him with everything I have, but you.” He looks up, and he looks so focused, so intent, so far from tipsy that Dean is frozen in place by his stare. “You’re the one I’m haunted by.”

“What do you want?” Dean asks, voice giving out. Other Dean smiles wistfully and laughs under his breath. Dean licks his lips and Other Dean is

drawn to it like a drop of blood in a shark-infested ocean; hungry and needy and-- fucking Christ. 

“Tell me what you want,” Dean says.

“Something to play in my head the next time I think about you.” Other Dean’s grin crawls slowly across his face. “But we can start with a kiss.” Dean doesn’t need any further convincing. 

He slams their mouths together and kisses him hard, tracing the red blood-hot plush of his lips with his tongue just to taste the malty-sweet of beer still clinging to his skin. Other Dean makes a noise of approval and kisses him back, weaving his arms around his neck and pulling him in tight. 

It’s nothing like their first kiss. This one is raw and tender and a thousand other things Dean is still too afraid to put a name to, a dizzying mix of affection and lust and pure, unrelenting need. Sam’s already said yes, and this time, the thought makes Dean moan and kiss his double harder. Other Dean is just as frantic, fingers grabbing at his hair to push him closer. 

They pull back, eyes wide and bright, and then Other Dean stands and starts unbuttoning his shirt. Dean tosses his flannel on the bed and grabs the hem of his t-shirt, flipping it up and over his head. He disposes of it onto the floor and Other Dean’s eyes sweep appreciatively up and down his torso. 

“Never got the chance to look at you like this,” he says quietly, shouldering his shirt off and letting it slip to the floor beside his feet. Dean lets him look while he traces the planes of Other Dean’s chest with his eyes, the cut of his pecs and the dips of his abs, showing faintly through the skin of his belly. Other Dean is fit, muscles toned from exercise, and he looks elegant even through the racy exposure of his pretty honeyed skin. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Dean whispers. Other Dean smiles and walks closer, pressing himself onto Dean chest-to-chest. His warm skin is a shock against Dean’s, but it’s a sweet sting, a gentle flutter of touch that holds promise for so much more. 

“Can I kiss you again?” Other Dean asks. 

“Fuck yes,” Dean says, and then they’re kissing again, and this time is for feelings, this time is for slow caresses and happy hums and tumbling onto the nearest bed just to wriggle as close as possible and fit themselves together like long-lost puzzle pieces. 

Dean traces his fingers along the unmarred skin of Other Dean’s back, searching for scars that haven't ever had the chance to exist. Sam likes doing this to him whenever they have slow sex, something about it being grounding to pick apart the exact moments Dean escaped death or major injury, but Dean hadn’t understood the desire for it until right now. 

Other Dean is squirming against him like there’s energy trapped just under his skin, nibbling at his lower lip and trying so damn hard to kiss him harder, kiss him deeper, when there’s nowhere else to go and nowhere else to touch. Dean pulls back and smiles when Other Dean whines. 

“Let me help you,” Dean says. He rolls them over, hovering over Other Dean while Other Dean lays all sprawled out below him. He blinks twice, bleary-eyed and open, and Dean kisses him once more just to hear him sigh contentedly. 

“Has Sam played with these pretty tits yet?” Dean whispers against Other Dean’s lips. Other Dean’s eyes go wide, already darkening, and he shudders out a breath and shakes his head meekly. Dean frowns. 

“We need to fix that, then, huh? Want me to show you how good it feels?” 

“Please,” Other Dean says. Dean hums, murmurs a little  _ good boy, so polite _ under his breath, and then he shimmies down Other Dean’s body until his face is level with his chest. 

He smiles and dips his head, licks across one bud with the flat of his tongue. Other Dean gasps, arching his back when Dean does it again. He traces circles around it with the tip of his tongue, teasing and slow, and then he wraps his lips around it and suckles, eyes fluttering shut when Other Dean cries out. 

There was one time that Sam tried to get him to come just by touching his nipples. He couldn’t do it, but he came damn close, and that night is still one of his hottest fantasies to date. Sam had alternated from rough to gentle and fast to slow until the sensations all blurred together into a steady stream of bliss, and he’d finally come with Sam’s hand around his cock and Sam’s mouth around his nipple, still suckling him through the aftershocks. 

Dean gets it when Other Dean cups the back of his head and holds him down, so he just bites at his nipple lightly and sucks harder, pressing his tongue against it in random enough intervals that Other Dean can’t brace himself against it. He switches over when the first nipple is red and sensitive and sucks the second to the same tenderness. Once he’s satisfied, he pulls away and licks his lips. 

“Feel good?” he asks. Other Dean nods, and then Dean smiles and reaches over to pinch his first nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it between his grip as Other Dean jolts and groans, oscillating between the desire to stop and the need to keep going. 

“You already love this, don’t you?” Dean leans down to kiss the place where his tattoo should be. “Jesus, can’t get enough of how sensitive you are.”

“Fuck, don’t stop,” Other Dean breathes, and Dean smiles and switches sides. He licks across them both in an attempt to soothe the ache, suckling more gently this time on one nipple and then the other. Other Dean swears and arches his back, pushes his chest up closer to Dean, and then Dean lets go, spit dripping down and glistening against Other Dean’s skin in the faint light from the lamp across the room. 

“Dean?” he says, and his voice is shaky. “There’s lube in the drawer next to you.” Dean stares down at his double with wide eyes. 

“You sure?” Dean asks. Other Dean nods. Dean reaches over and pulls one of the drawers open, rifling through its contents and producing a small bottle of lube. Other Dean flushes and smiles shyly at him, spreading his legs to let Dean fit between them. 

“Wanna turn over onto your stomach?” Dean asks. Wordlessly, Other Dean rolls until he’s face down, back arched so his ass sticks out. He’s still wearing pants; they’re black and fitted and ironed into crisp edges, but Dean wants them off, wants to see  _ skin.  _

He reaches around and fumbles with the latch, unbuttoning and unzipping to pull it off his legs and throw it on the floor. His legs are long and just as tanned as the rest of him, and he’s wearing grey boxers that mould around the jut of his hips and the curve of his ass, waistband thick and branded. Dean’s fingers slip under the front of it, cupping hard, hot flesh, the tip already smeared wet with precome. 

“All this just from having your tits sucked,” he muses, lowering his head to kiss the knobs of his spine. Other Dean jerks his hips forward into Dean’s touch, and Dean wraps his fist around him and jacks him off slow. When Other Dean starts fucking forward into his fist, he lets him go, tugging his boxers down over the swell of his ass instead and snapping the cap off the lube to coat his fingers in it, rubbing them together in an attempt to warm it up. Whiny protests fade into gasps as Dean presses his slick thumb against Other Dean’s hole, spreading the lube around and coaxing him to relax and let him in. 

“Have you and Sam done this yet?” Other Dean huffs breathlessly, angles his hips up so Dean can sink right in, noise catching in his throat once the first knuckle disappears inside him. 

“Yes, a few times now.”

“Bet it’s good, huh?”

He presses in with his middle finger and slowly works each knuckle in, pausing with every inch and offering a kiss of encouragement after he successfully takes the next. One finger becomes two, and two becomes three, and then Other Dean is whining and thrusting back against him, fucking himself on Dean’s fingers. 

“C’mon, up,” Dean says, pulling his fingers out and helping Other Dean to his knees. Dean lays down beside him and grins widely at his dazed expression, grabbing his wrist and tugging him closer. 

“Ride me, it’ll be better for you.” 

Other Dean swallows hard and swings a leg over his hips, settling down on top of him as a pleasant weight; he’s shorter than Sam, so he actually fits on his lap, and his thighs brush either side of his hips, Dean’s cock sliding neatly between his ass cheeks. 

“God, can’t wait to get inside you,” Dean whispers, hips rolling lightly. “You gonna let me fuck you? Gonna let me come in that tight little ass?” Other Dean shivers to the tips of his toes, fingers curling into fists on Dean’s chest. 

Dean’s not vain. Sure, he boasts his looks sometimes, and he’s aware that he’s gotten ahead on cases using them, but it’s all just a distant persona. Dean can’t be vain because he’s too focused on everything else to pay much mind to himself. 

Here, though, trapped under the warm heft of Other Dean and captivated by every flush and every noise and every little quirk that simultaneously fascinates and terrifies him in its familiarity, Dean’s forced to see it. Here, there is no such thing as vanity or pride or shame. Here, there’s only the bright burn of need, the trembling, tender balance between trust and desire, the will to just let it all go and have faith that they won’t emerge the other side more damaged than they’d entered. 

Dean’s hands slide down the arch of Other Dean’s spine, palms cupping his ass as he rocks, flared head catching on the rim but never slipping in. It’s cruel, especially when Dean nudges himself up and latches onto Other Dean’s left nipple, oversensitive from his earlier abuse, but Dean knows it feels good, knows that when Other Dean tosses his head back and gasps, it’s out of nothing less than mind numbing pleasure. 

“Dean, please.” Other Dean trails a hand loosely through Dean’s hair, mouth parted around breathy pants as Dean nibbles and moans like he’s feeling it all too. 

It boils over to the point where Dean can’t hold back anymore. He’s hungry, driven himself to the point of starvation, and Other Dean is so damn willing, so open to taking whatever Dean wants to give. Dean’s belly goes warm as he remembers the dark-eyed desire in Other Dean’s gaze when they’d been drinking; he wants this just as badly, and that’s what makes him snap. 

“Want this in?” Dean growls, fisting his cock just under the head, rubbing the tip against Other Dean’s hole, but he’s still not pushing it  _ in. _ “Tell me. Beg me.”

“Please!” Other Dean gasps at even that touch, the barely there pressure-promise tap-tap-tapping against his lube-slick hole. Dean can feel it wink against him, and he needs, he needs so badly, but he wants this more, wants to hear Other Dean tell him exactly what he wants so Dean can satisfy. 

“Please fuck me, Dean. Wanna feel it for weeks, want it to last, please, need to feel you in me, need to feel you in-inside.” Other Dean’s words fade to nothing, body squirming back in a plea so much more convincing, and Dean can’t take any more. 

He feeds his dick into his hole, grabbing at his hips to sink in the rest of the way, going slow and steady and watching Other Dean’s expressions morph the deeper he settles. Dean’s expressive, which means that Other Dean is too, and it’s fucking hot the way he’s gone red and speechless, looking more drunk sitting on his dick than when he was downing endless cans of beer. Other Dean reaches for his hand and finds it, lacing their fingers and squeezing tight. A small comfort, but they both need to catch their breath, so Dean lies buried within Other Dean’s pulsing heat and waits. 

Other Dean rocks back and forth, ever so slowly, eyelids fluttering shut as his brows furrow, lost in sensation. Dean lets him move, free hand roaming across his back and thumbing over the dimples in his ass. He lifts up and Dean looks down to watch him sink back down, groaning quietly at the clench of Other Dean’s ass around him. Other Dean smiles at the noise, folding at the waist to kiss Dean’s nose and cheeks and, finally, his lips. 

“I’m okay,” he whispers. “I’m good. You can move.”

“Sure?” Other Dean rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, I’m sure. Now fuck me like you mean it.”

Dean’s eyes glitter. His grip on Other Dean’s hip tightens to crushing, and he urges him up just enough that he has leverage to thrust his hips up to meet his ass. Other Dean chokes the first time and then chokes on a moan the second, palms pushed against Dean’s chest to hold himself upright as he gets pounded from underneath. Dean’s not holding himself back, but their hands are still locked together and their lips are kiss-red and swollen. 

Other Dean’s thighs are shaking, vibrating beside him, and Dean can see sweat beading up across his forehead and neck and chest, a pink flush working its way down his body. He’s getting tired, Dean can tell, but Dean isn’t. 

He grabs Other Dean around the back and rolls them over, laying him out under him and kissing him hard. He’s still inside him, Other Dean’s ass clenching in pulses from the sudden change in position, but Dean waits until he’s calm before he pulls away and chuckles low in his throat. 

“You know what the best part about this is?” 

Other Dean’s eyes sparkle. “What?”

“I know your body as well as I know my own,” he whispers. “I know something you probably haven’t gotten the chance to tell Sam yet, and I know how badly you want him to know.”

“What do you mean?”

Dean pulls out until he almost completely slips out, and then he thrusts back in, grabbing Other Dean’s thigh to hold him down and open as he gapes and arches. 

_ “Yeah _ , shit, feel that?” Dean does it again, like he’s demonstrating, but Other Dean’s eyes have gone wide and dark and Dean’s pretty sure he already knows what’s about to happen. 

“You’re gonna come without touching this pretty dick,” Dean trails a finger across the tip of Other Dean’s cock, collecting a slick pearl of precome, “and I know you can do it because I’ve done it before. Touch yourself and I stop, understood?”

Other Dean shivers, eyes glazed as he nods meekly. “Understood.”

Dean smiles. “Good.”

Dean starts to thrust up into him, not having to angle himself because he knows exactly where his prostate is, and he knows exactly how to hit it to make Other Dean’s toes curl. He’s half expecting Other Dean to sneak a hand down and force him to hold his wrists against the mattress, but his arms stay stagnant by his side, fists balled up tight. Dean beams and kisses him, a little softer this time. 

“I wish we could stay here for weeks,” Dean whispers against his spit-glossed mouth. “Wanna fuck you on every surface of this room, make you come until you can’t anymore.” He moans in time with Other Dean, hooking his leg up and fucking into him harder, chasing his own pleasure as much as he’s giving Other Dean his. 

“Dean,” Other Dean sobs, and it shouldn’t sound that hot coming out in that fucked-out voice of his, the kind he’s only heard from within the darkness of his own mind. Dean needs him to come, needs him to feel how fucking good it feels to come just like this, so he just holds his legs open and leans down to kiss him deep, fucking him deeper. 

Other Dean whimpers into his tongue, clenching up tight around Dean’s cock, and he feels him shudder and spill like he’s the one coming, pounding against his prostate to milk it out. A rope of come hits his belly, still warm from Other Dean’s body, and that’s what sends Dean over the edge, rutting forward to empty his load into Other Dean, hips grinding up slow and stuttering to a gradual stop. 

They’re both panting and sweating, sticky with Other Dean’s come. Dean moves to pull out, but Other Dean hooks his ankles around his back and tugs him close, humming contentedly when Dean stops fighting and just slumps beside him, gathering Other Dean up against his chest. 

They don’t fall asleep just yet. Other Dean traces Dean’s tattoo over and over until his hands stop shaking, and he pouts when Dean’s cock finally softens and slips out of him. 

“Wish I could have you inside me all day,” he whispers. Dean palms his ass and slips a finger between his cheeks, pushing his middle finger through the slick dripping out of him. Other Dean hums and pushes back into it, sighing when Dean finally pushes his finger in. 

“I should get you a plug,” Dean muses. “Make you wear it on the way home, maybe.” Other Dean’s breath catches in his throat, and Dean laughs, bright and teasing. 

“We can do that after we take a nap, can’t we?” Other Dean relaxes and nods his head, pressing his cheek against one of Dean’s pecs, tracing the flames of his tattoo again. Dean fingers him absent-mindedly, not trying to rile him up or stretch him out, and it works on Other Dean because it works on Dean. 

Other Dean is asleep before Dean is, and it’s only when he hears the soft snores he lets out that he removes his finger and wipes it clean on the sheets. He shifts, looping his arm tighter around Other Dean, and he’s about to fall asleep when his phone rings shrilly. 

Other Dean stirs, and Dean shushes him softly, petting at his hair with one hand while his other searches the floor for his jeans, hooking it by the belt loops to lift it up and search for his phone. 

He finds it and answers quickly, glancing once at the caller ID to read Sam’s name. He frowns and brings it up to his ear. 

“Hello?” he asks. Sam sighs through the receiver and mumbles something like  _ thank God.  _

_ “Dean? I need to ask you for permission.” _ Dean’s brain is still a little slow from the sex he’s just had, so he just blinks and frowns harder. 

“Permission for what?”

_ “Other Sam is here. In the bunker.” _

Dean blinks again, and then his eyes go wide.  _ Oh.  _

Shit. 

“Yes, yes, you have my permission,” he says hurriedly, and he laughs when he hears Sam take an audibly heavy breath. “Have fun, Sammy.” 

_ “Fuck, I think I’m gonna.” _ There’s a pause where Sam just breathes into the phone, and Dean listens with a swollen heart and an ear-splitting grin, and then Sam laughs a little wildly and Dean can hear him smile. 

_ “Love you,” _ Sam says sincerely. 

“Love you too.” Dean smirks. “Now go fuck yourself.”

Sam’s laughing when he hangs up, and Dean sets his phone on the nightstand, wrapping his arms around Other Dean. He’s asleep again, and Dean kisses his forehead gently, knocking his chin against the top of his head. 

It’s easy to fall asleep like this, curled up around Other Dean’s warm, inviting body. There’s come drying in a tacky mess between them, and he’s not quite sure when the hotel staff will come knocking to clean their bedding, but it’s enough to put him to sleep imagining what round two possibly has in store, so he just yawns and snuggles in closer. 

.

**Author's Note:**

> part 3 will be samcest !! pls keep an eye out for that one <3


End file.
